


A Few Pinches

by ToWhomItMayConcern



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Requests, Smut, prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:53:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22821289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToWhomItMayConcern/pseuds/ToWhomItMayConcern
Summary: A quiet afternoon disturbed by a few pinches.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Reader, geralt of rivia/reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 227





	A Few Pinches

**Author's Note:**

> Oof, this is my first Witcher fic so go easy on me.

The sun seeped through the curtains of your small little cottage. The golden rays illuminating the wooden floor, the dust settling in the air. It was, at least so far, a calm, peaceful morning, which came rare when your life was twined with one of a Witcher’s. 

Geralt slept soundly behind you, his arm draped over your waist. The heaviness of it was warm and comforting, something you missed dearly when he would take his leave. Your Geralt would come back to you though every time, whether he was wounded, dirty, or bloody; he would always come home to you. 

You stayed in bed with him until noon. He needed the rest and would squirm and mumble every time you moved, arm tightening around you. There was no way you could fight your way out of that. So you laid there, basking in the naked warmth of the room and his body. His breath was hot and even on the base of your neck, tickling the strands of hair that stuck to it. 

“Geralt,” you whispered, shaking his arm. Or at least attempting to. 

“Geralt.” You said louder. He still didn’t budge. 

You called his name louder a few more times, only receiving a small grunt in return. You sighed, resorting to squirming your way out of his arms. He only tightened his grip, not enough to hurt you, but enough to keep you still against his chest. 

“Stop moving,” he finally mumbled into your hair. 

You snort. “Geralt, it’s late noon. I have to get up.”

“No, you don’t.”

Sometimes you really hated that man. Fighting your way out was not an option, so you did the first thing that came to mind: you pinched him. 

He ignored it at first, barely felt it until you started to pinch harder, nails digging into the skin of his arm; not enough to draw blood of course, but enough to get his attention. He growled your name in a warning. He was definitely more alert now. 

You smiled triumphantly. “Yes, my love?”

“If you pinch me one more time.”

His tone was left for no argument, but one of the many things that made Geralt of Rivia fall in love with you was your stubbornness. The sheer strength and will to keep anything going; it was a little admirable in his eyes. 

You grinned, catlike and all. “Or what?”

Geralt growled when he felt your ass pressing up against him, rubbing teasingly on his growing length. Your body hummed with anticipation, already becoming wet from the way his breaths started to deepen and the way his arm hugged you tighter if that were even possible. 

Suddenly you were flipped over on your back, hands pinned above your head in one of his, the other grabbing a fistful of your hair, pulling until your neck was bare to him. 

“Don’t play with me, sweetheart.”

You smirked, opening your legs for him to settle in between. He hummed approvingly, pressing the tip of his nose against the planes of your jaw, inhaling your intoxicating scent.

You wiggled your hips, rolling them against his. The brush of his erection made you moan, legs hugging both sides of his hips. 

“Hm. Always a brat,” Geralt grumbled. 

You chuckled. “Only for you, my Witcher.” 

His lips ghosted over your throat, hovering just over your pulse point before nipping at it, no doubt marking you as his. Your hips begin to rock against his in a gentle rhythm. You wanted to run your hands through his hair, over the muscles of his chest and back, to bring him to the brink of pleasure just by your touch alone; but his grip on your wrists was bruising, anything but gentle, but you didn’t mind – rough was how you and Geralt liked it. 

“Now who’s the one teasing?” You whined, sultry all the same. 

His chest shook from his laughter. “It’s not very nice, is it?”

You huffed. He finally took pity on you and crashed his lips against yours, the kiss harsh and sloppy. His tongue traced along your lips, demanding entrance. You let him in without fight, moaning at the distinct taste of him. You bit down on his bottom lip as he went to pull back, and he went in for another kiss, this time sweeter and more tender. When he pulled away his golden ember eyes dark and playful, hair mused from his slumber, he was a carving of everything beautiful and dangerous; it made your core ache to the point of pain. 

“No,” you finally relented. “It’s not.”

He grinned. The hand that wasn’t holding yours trailed over your chest, covered only by the thin blanket draped around you. You sighed when his fingers brushed against your perk nipples, admiring the planes of your body. 

“Ah!”

Geralt rubbed the raw skin of your ass, already turning red from his smack. He gave it another smack, receiving a loud cry in return. He ripped the blanket from the both of you, all barriers between your naked skins gone. The heat radiating from him was divine, soothing to your trembling skin. 

His fingers trailed down your naval until they hovered over your wet heat. He circled around your slit, gathering your sweet essence. You moaned softly, panting, when he ghosted over your aching bundle of nerves, applying enough pressure to make you shiver – though it still wasn’t enough. 

“I know what you want,” he cooed. “But why should I give it to you? When you were being so rude to me?”

You closed your eyes tightly, cursing him under your breath. “I- I’m sorry. I was being bad and I shouldn’t have disturbed you like that.”

He was panting quietly as well, the hand that had been gripping yours with increased intensity finally releasing them. He sat up on his knees, grabbing your hips and lifting you up before lining himself at your entrance. He barely gave you a chance before he plunged in, filling you to the brim. You both moaned loudly, your hands gripping the sheets; you were sure you were going to rip them by the time he was done with you. 

Your body, alive and shaking from every thrust, every drag of his long and thick cock against your sensitive walls, thrummed with electricity as every nerve in your body hummed in euphoria. His hands were like steel grips against your hips, bouncing you on his cock with unsurprising vigor. 

One of his hands palms your breast, tugging on your nipple on his way up to your throat, giving it a small appreciative squeeze. Your breaths slowed, coming out hoarsely at the combined pleasure; eyes rolling in the back of your head. Each brush against the soft, spongey spot inside you consumed you in fire; a tight coil in your lower stomach threatening to implode. 

“Why should I let you cum?” He growls as he feels you pulse and clench around him, his pace unrelenting. “After that little tryst you pulled?”

You gritted your teeth, struggling to form words from the delicious fog only Geralt could create in your mind, your body. 

“I- I’m - .”

You were so, so close. Your hips moved against his in a fury, his cock pulsing inside of you; the feel of his veins felt nothing but incredible, fulfilling. 

Suddenly he stopped, leaving only the tip inside. You growled, glaring up at him as he did the same to you. He slapped your ass hard, making you cry out in pain. 

“I asked you a question, girl,” he snarled. 

“I’m sorry,” you babbled. “I’m so fucking sorry Geralt, it won’t happen again!”

He chuckled darkly, admiring the view before him; your hair splayed out like a halo across your pillows, body red and flushed, lips swollen and eyes glassy. 

“Good girl.”You mulled at the praise and clawed at his arms as he started back at his brutal pace. The coil in your stomach tightening once again. And when he pinched that soft bundle of nerves you wailed as you clenched around him, velvet walls suffocating for all he was worth. 

“Geralt! F-fuck Geralt!”

He looked down between your bodies, watching as his girth slid in and out, glistening with your juices; the sight alone was enough for him.

Your face contorted in pleasure as he grunted, giving you a few more harsh thrusts before releasing himself deep inside you, sighing and growling. He collapsed on top of you after the haze of his pleasure started to calm. The whimper that escaped you when his thrusts slow to a stop is music to his ears, better than any song Jaskier could ever sing. 

Hot skin pressed heavily against yours, you held him to your chest as the both of you panted. Your hands felt like home, like the epiphany of comfort when they rubbed up and down the planes of his back, scratching lightly. You reveled in the soft grunts, the way his arms were wrapped under and around you; you kissed the top of his head, smiling at the hum that left him. 

A thought came over you, and a devilish smile graced your lips. You ran the tips of your fingers over a soft, tender spot in between his shoulder blades before pinching him. Again. 

Geralt snapped his head up with the speed only a Witcher could perfect, glaring at you. 

You giggled, only earning a clenched jaw in return. “It’s time to get up.”

“Oh, I’m going to make sure you won’t be able to walk for a week.”


End file.
